A letter to my son

Dear Son,

I think I know what your name will be; however, we can't tell everyone yet. I tend to change my mind based on celebrity names in tabloids (ask your sister whose middle name is Isabel. It was on page 3 of US Weekly in January 2009. She was supposed to be named after your great grandmother; my own mother is still irate.).

When you are born, you will become part of a crazy family that tends to make up its own rules. Your father, bless his midwestern heart, is not quite comfortable with my tendency to do whatever I feel like and disregard laws and other social standards. However, he is just as independent; don't let his attempt at being quiet and normal fool you. I am continually irritated by the the rules and often upset authorities. Your father, despite his calmer nature, jumps right into the chaos, followed by your two sisters. Lily, in particular, has a mouth like a civil rights attorney.

Be prepared for many political debates, public protests and arguments with your teachers. Sorry in advance.

I used to think I would be a crap Mother to a boy. I despise the expression: "Boys will be boys." I am vehemently opposed to pornography, strip clubs and cigars. And I cannot throw a ball to save my life (mostly because I don't care. I am sure if my life was really at stake, I'd get my act together.). I will not have guns-toy or real or anything in between in my house or in your hands. You are absolutely not permitted to join the military (I will lock you in the basement).  And I will not tolerate  Sports Illustrated model posters on your bedroom wall (and seriously, when you go to college, don't put one up in the dorm. You will just look like a loser. ).  I find sporting events on TV to be dull. I honestly think the word "fart" is the true "F" word; more offensive than the other "F" word that I drop like pennies in the rain.  And I think men should do everything a women does; not the other way around.

Minus lactate and gestate (obviously).

See, I don't want to entirely squash your manhood.

But, I think if you know our expectations, my expectations and if you know that I may be opinionated, but I am the most forgiving soul alive, things will go swimmingly.  We love you. I will pretend to enjoy sports on TV. And I will take some ball throwing lessons. Even if you think Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Model Posters are real art along the lines of Picassco and you grow up to own a strip club; I will love you (and do all your social media strip club promotions).

I will always be proud to be your mama.

Just don't talk about your farts.

Your Mama


  1. Great letter. Funny how they have a mind, and personality and likes and dislikes of their own despite our best attempts to brainwash, er, uh, teach them.
    My 5 year old son- MY 5 year old son- son of the peace-loving, anti gun, bleeding heart, tree hugging, hippie liberal, has decided that he wants to be... wait for it....
    A HUNTER!!!!
    A M&^%#R F&^%$*G HUNTER!!



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